


Bruises

by butterofsalmon



Series: The Oolong Chronicles [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Also in which Obi-Wan can't stay in place for literally 5 minutes, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, In which Qui-Gon is a reckless little bastard Jedi, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reader is female!, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22671748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterofsalmon/pseuds/butterofsalmon
Summary: Your favourite patron was always full of surprises. Some good, some bad.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Reader
Series: The Oolong Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630987
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> HENLO
> 
> Request received: “hi!! first of all: i love your writing and just your blog in general! second of all: could I request something angsty that ends with fluff, with the prompt “you better come back alive.” I don’t mind who for (i have a soft spot for both of them) so I’ll leave that to you. I hope you’re having a lovely day! 🧡🌸”
> 
> I feel like this is total shit SORRY and I’m also sorry I reused the tea shop thing but I had no other ideas ;^; I HOPE Y’ALL LIKE IT please leave me a little comment on what you liked/disliked! I promise I don’t bite! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و Much love.

The sun was setting in the tea shop, painting the place in a soft orange glow. You had just bid the last handful of customers goodbye. You flipped the sign hanging on your door from “open” to “closed” before you went back to clearing a few tables of cups and empty plates. Pushing the door open with your back, you brought them back to the kitchen on a platter, setting them in the sink and beginning to scrub them clean. Your help, Ziek, a Besalisk male, was in there with you, whistling happily to himself as he cleaned up his station for the day. The two of you cleaned in a comfortable silence, but you both exchanged a curious look when you heard the chime of the front door’s bell.

Your coworker had a clear view of the door from the kitchen’s small window, and you peered curiously past his shoulder, a wet dish still in your hand, to see who had decided to ignore your signage, but the customers had already walked out of your view.

“Well, if it isn’t our two favourite Jedi!” A hearty chuckle resounded from your chef’s throat, and he happily dawdled his way out of the kitchen. A smile tugged at your lips. You knew exactly who it was, and you had never cleaned a dish so fast in your life.

You were only a few steps behind your coworker when you exited the kitchen, but the wider man obstructed your view. And then, there was _his_ voice.

“I hope we’re not too late,” he spoke, and your heart fluttered when you could hear the smile in his tone. “We just returned from our mission’s debrief, and my Padawan and I realized we could really use a cup of tea.”

Beaming with a grin and wiping your hands on your apron, you moved to Ziek’s side, your mouth open and ready to greet the tardy customers, but your breath hitched when your eyes landed on them. Their chitchat continued, but blue eyes briefly met yours before you tore your gaze away to process the situation. Qui-Gon Jinn and a teenage Obi-Wan Kenobi stood in your shop, their relaxed postures completely contradicting the pitiable, battered state they were in. Your stomach sank.

Your eyes fell on Obi-Wan first: his left arm was wrapped in gauze, and it hung in a clean, white sling from his shoulder. He had a bandage over the bridge of his nose; most likely to speed the healing of a broken septum. When you finished cataloguing his injuries, you shifted your gaze to Qui-Gon. Though his injuries were well hidden, you shrewdly noted the gauze that peeked out from underneath his tunic, trimming the ends of his robe’s collar with white, and an angry bruise coloured his temple, just above his dark brow. You cursed him for still looking so statuesque despite his current state.

“Kriff’s sake, you two,” Ziek laughed in amusement as he gestured for them to sit down at a table. It didn’t seem to bother him one bit that the two Jedi looked as if they had been hit by a speeder. “What’d you get yourselves into this time?”

Obi-Wan shrugged as he sat down across his Master, a wily grin spread on his face. “Oh, you know, just a few run-ins with the local Zillo beasts. The usual.”

Qui-Gon watched you stand frozen to your spot, practically seeing cogs spin in your head. He instantly recognized your apprehension, and he almost felt guilty, but he wasn’t sure for what. As you watched them in horror, your coworker offered, “Let’s get some grub in ya then, Masters. Let me fire up the grill, and (Y/N) here will grab your orders.” 

The two Jedi thanked the Besalisk as he made his way back into the kitchen, leaving you alone with the pair. The brunet Jedi Master watched you gawk at him. He saw your cheeks flushing with an emotion the older man recognized to be exasperation, and your brows knit together after a while as you squared your shoulders. 

“What will you have?” You snapped, and Qui-Gon almost laughed at how endearing you were when you were irritated, but he held the chuckle back, not wanting to provoke you. _Like an angry Loth-Cat_ , he thought fondly. The two of you never broke eye contact; one pair of eyes glaring, and the other admiring.

Hesitantly, Obi-Wan spoke first when he realized the two of you were immersed in a staring match, “Um, I’ll have a—”

“That’s great. I’ll be right out with your order.” After having interrupted the young Padawan, you promptly turned on your heel and hurried to the kitchen in a huff.

The Master and apprentice watched you disappear through a set of doors, and Obi-Wan slowly turned to his Master, baffled. “But I didn’t order anything…”

Qui-Gon shook his head with a quiet chuckle, signifying for him to drop the question at hand.

“I’ll be right back, Obi-Wan,” the dark-haired Jedi replied as he stood from his seat. 

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, you were arguing with Ziek.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind staying,” he protested, his hands busy wiping off a teacup. You had just filled a kettle, and you were waiting for it to boil.

With a strained smile, you nodded, “Yes, go home. I can handle these last two myself.”

That was when the tall Jedi appeared through the kitchen doors, having followed you here. You both turned to look at him, but in the split second that followed, you turned away and feigned focus on the dishes in the sink.

“Thank you for your hard work today, Ziek,” you spoke into the sink, purposefully ignoring the guest and punctuating Ziek’s dismissal. Qui-Gon watched the chef glance inquisitively between the two of you before a sudden air of comprehension settled on his features.

“Ahh,” Ziek broadcasted with a smirk, seeming to have a grasp on the situation. “A lover’s quarrel. I’ll get out of your hair.”

You felt something pull at your heart; as much as you had wanted that to be true, you and Qui-Gon were strictly friends. But still, you wondered… If Qui-Gon didn’t have to honour his responsibilities to the Jedi Code…

“That’s hardly –” you started before your mind went any further, turning to look at your coworker. But before you could argue your case, Ziek had already made his way past Qui-Gon and out the kitchen door. Qui-Gon looked over his shoulder at the chef, and your eyes met when he turned his head back around. You quickly looked away and preoccupied yourself with the dirty dishes. Qui-Gon exhaled calmly, then gradually approached you.

“So, you can guess customers’ orders now? That’s quite the party trick,” Qui-Gon remarked in an easy tone of voice, standing beside you. He crossed his arms and leaned his lower back against the counter’s edge, getting a clear angle of your face. You refused to look up at him.

“You’re not allowed back here,” you snapped, eyes fixated on your soapy hands. “If something heavy falls on you, the insurance won’t cover your Medcenter fees.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t help but laugh out loud this time. Your heart soared at the sound of his harmonious laughter; a sound far too rare for your liking, but you were peeved that his laugh could be so disarming to you. “Ah, yes, a Jedi Master brought down by a bag of flour to the head. Tragic.”

You snorted, but still refused to look at him. Qui-Gon thought it was rather cute the way you tried to hide your smile from him when you were pissed off, but he saw your sweet smile far too infrequently for him to simply let it escape him. He reached a friendly hand to your face, and placed the fleshy part of his index finger on the underside of your chin. The contact of his skin sent a wave of chills down your back. Albeit gently, he forced you to turn your head to him, and his face was unexpectedly solemn. Your hands stopped what they were doing in the sink.

“You’re upset with me,” he stated, his tone indicating you were to expand on the fact. Averting your eyes, you knit your brows, but the Jedi Master didn’t allow your head to turn away from him. “Speak your mind.”

You set down the dishes you were holding into the bottom of the basin, and stepped away from the sink, and in turn, his touch. You wiped your hands on your apron in thought before you inhaled. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, and you show up, unannounced, beaten to a pulp. It just… Seeing you hurt… It affects me.”

Qui-Gon was quiet for a while, watching his dear friend wring her hands in her apron nervously. He chose his next words carefully, “I understand. However, I can’t avoid conflict; it’s an essential part of the life I’ve chosen. I’m sorry that I’ve caused you pain because of this.”

He watched you shake your head, and your eyes met. You looked displeased, and he didn’t like the thought that he had caused this displeasure. “Not pain; worry,” you answered. “I understand it’s part of your life, but I wish you wouldn’t be so careless.”

Qui-Gon raised a brow. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but certainly not careless.”

You returned his look of defiance. “Your Padawan has a broken arm and nose, and Kriff knows what injuries you have hidden from eyesight. Wouldn’t you say those are byproducts of carelessness?”

He searched your eyes for his answer. “I would call those unfortunate aftermaths of a successful mission.” Qui-Gon countered, his voice even and diplomatic. You watched a wolfish smile spread on his lips when you finally exhaled in defeat, crossing your arms over your chest. You stared at each other for a while before your glare softened.

“Just… be careful with your life,” you muttered, taking a step closer to him. It was your turn to raise your touch to his face. Qui-Gon felt his skin tingle where your soft fingers gently caressed him. Your touch feathered over his bruised temple, where he had been kicked by a Zillo, and he breathlessly watched your eyes narrow from something he recognized to be protectiveness. Your fingers then travelled down his hot skin to his jawline, and he felt them curl around his cheek. Lost in the moment, and intoxicated by a waft of your perfume, he unashamedly leaned into you cupping his cheek, wondering what he had done to deserve this undivided attention from you. He watched a smile that was both timid and impish grow on your lips before you spoke, “I can’t lose my best customer.”

He chortled, and his much larger hand covered yours over his cheek. He peeled your skin off of his, and brought your hand to his lips, earning himself a sharp inhale from you. He pressed a warm kiss to your fingers, then another to the back of your hand. He watched your cheeks blaze bright red as your eyes fixated on his lips. He kissed your knuckles, smirking deliciously into your skin. “All this fuss for a customer?”

You nodded slowly, swallowing bashfully as he kissed the sensitive skin on the inside of your wrist, his eyes never allowing you to break eye contact with him. Your body shook in response, but you braved to correct him, “My _best_ customer, Master Jinn.”

This only seemed to encourage him to inch closer to you, pulling you in gently by the arm he held in his massive palm. “What must I do to convince you to address me by Qui-Gon?” his lips brushed against the inside of your arm as he murmured. He continued to pull you in, every movement making your head spin in the most delightful way, until you were pulled into his arms, your own braced against his strong chest. 

You inhaled his earthy scent, and looked up into his eyes when it came to be his turn to cup your cheek in his hand. He felt something stir in him as he looked down at you. You were so beautiful – eyes full of love, in his embrace. “Addressing you by your name would be inappropriate given that you’re a patron…”

He smiled longingly, his thumb stroking over the supple skin of your cheek. He leaned forward slowly, your faces inching towards each other, and you suddenly felt intoxicated by the sensation of his hot breath on your lips.

“Yes, I’m clearly just a regular patron,” he murmured, the huskiness of his voice unintentionally seductive. As both of your eyes began to close, another smile tugged at his lips when he felt your hands tighten around the fabric on his chest.

“Nothing more…” you whispered breathlessly, playing along with his game. He almost moaned in agony when your plush lips grazed his as you spoke. Your eyes closed, then his, and…

“Master Jinn, we’ve been summoned by the – oh!”

You practically leapt away from the Jedi Master with a gasp, and your gaze turned wildly to the kitchen doors where Qui-Gon’s young Padawan stood with wide eyes. You bit your lip and turned to Qui-Gon for an indication of how to react, but the man was busy holding back an entertained smile, covering his smile from his student by pretending to groom his moustache. He eyed you roguishly.

“Yes, Obi-Wan, what is it?” The Master urged after clearing his throat, an amused expression on his handsome features as his Padawan’s eyes darted uncertainly between you two. You inhaled deeply and pressed your palms to your cheeks in hopes of cooling your scorching face while Obi-Wan’s attention was directed to his Master.

“We’ve been summoned to the Jedi Council. They have another mission for us,” the boy explained, still trying to decipher what he had walked in on. Qui-Gon nodded coolly, and instructed his Padawan to wait for him outside. You noticed the sheepish look the teenager shot you over his shoulder before he left.

With Obi-Wan gone, Qui-Gon closed the distance between you two once again and reached for a lock of your hair to twirl in his long fingers. He was still chuckling to himself, and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“I’ll have to explain to my Padawan the obligations that come with being your best customer,” he commented, and you blushed under his mischievous gaze.

You nodded towards the exit, and sneered at his remark. “Get out of my kitchen.”

He beamed down at you, and his loving gaze was infectious. You stared into his ocean eyes for what seemed like ages before you forced yourself back to reality. He had a duty to fulfill, and you were proud of him for it. You rose to the tips of your toes and pressed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. Pulling away, you only found tenderness in his eyes, and a forlorn smile.

“You better come back alive,” you muttered with a smirk.

He chuckled, then leaned into you in order to press his lips to your forehead, ardently. “You better be waiting for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Grand Master of cock-blocking, that rat-tailed angel. I love them both so much -- it's becoming a borderline obsession.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment, tip me over at Ko-Fi(https://ko-fi.com/salmonbutter), and/or send me a request on Tumblr. (tumblr.com/salmonbutter) (❁´◡`❁)
> 
> Cheers, bitches.


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